


Last Horrahs and Burried Hatchets

by CosmicJ_Writing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Broken destiel, Destiel Angst, Highschool AU, M/M, Slight fluff, Student Dean, Top Cas, mostly angst, teacher cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7826347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicJ_Writing/pseuds/CosmicJ_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because you say, "fuck you," to assholes who love you and then want nothing to do with you. Because you say, "fuck you," when all you really want to do is run right back into his arms and stay. Because Dean says, "fuck you," when he actually means, "I still fucking love you." Because he was 15 and now he's 18 and his feelings haven't changed, even if they should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Horrahs and Burried Hatchets

He's grinning, triumph washing over him, bathing him in a warm pleasure that he can feel tingling in his toes. So he cheers, even knocks out a powerful fist pump in the buzzing air. 

"Congratulations, Mr Winchester!" His principal shakes his hand and nods respoectfully. He's pleased as fuck, and Dean knows it. Four years Mr. Bridgewater put up with Dean's shenanigans, giving him speech after speech, and letting his actions slide only because his father was the closest gunsmith in town.  
Bridewater finally managed to make a man out of him. 

Dean trotted down the steps of his school stage, giving one last look at the lion wrapped around the red L.  
By some miracle, he finally made it. Dean Winchester, finally graduated. He was now a Lailtown graduate, and damn it did it feel great. 

When the ceremony was over, he shot towards his mother first, wrapping his arms around her and letting her laughter fill his ears.

"Dean Winchester, you put me down!" She laughed, playfully slapping his back. He gently dropped her to her toes, her fingers grazing his prickly chin. 

"I did it Momma," he whispered, holding her warm, familiar to his cheek. He kept his eyes locked with her watery one's. He kissed her forehead and took a step back.

"Well, well." John chuckled, and Dean straightened, saluting his father, not bothering to hide the pride in his smile. That's right, keep on looking. He thought. And you thought I'd drop out.

"Reporting for duty sir!"

"At ease soldier! Now get over here and give your old man a hug!" John held an arm out, his other balancing on the Lion head cane. Dean allowed his body be enveloped by his father's strong hold, burying his wet face in John's shoulder.

"You've made me proud, Son," John says. That's all Dean needed to hear. His arms tightened, too afraid to let go.

"Sam! Hey! Get over here and give your brother a hug!" Mary's ordering, her perfectly trained "Mom" voice loud, and terrifying enough to draw attention.  
Sam just rolls his eyes and mumbles a quick goodbye to Jessica before he jogs over.

"Damn Sammy!" Dean whistles. "You got yourself a babe! Puberty looks good on her! In all the right places," Dean trails, eyes roaming down the pretty girl's body.

"Hey, eyes off," Sam grumbles, shoving his brother, looking to his mother to say something. Mary shrugs.

"He's right, Sam. She is hot." She winks at John, who's stating at her with that gleam in his eye. Dean can't help but make a face, the image of his mother bent over making him gag.

He instead turns his attention to Sam, whose got the same look.  
He grabs him in their brother-only handshake. 

"How the hell am I going to survive, with you off to college?" Sam jokingly, though Dean is pretty sure he can hear the worry in his little brother's voice.

"Need I remind you, it's you that helped me study and not the other way around. You got this in the bag. You're the smart one, dumb ass." Dean pats his back. Sam doesn't look convinced but he's got a growing smile on his face. Yeah, he'll be okay.

"Whatever you say, Jerk."

"Bitch."

Dean sighs, drunk with euphoria. Damn it he finally did it. He turns away from his family, hiding his laughter behind his hand. He wants to jump for joy, he wants to run through a field of daises, and eat cupcakes. 

"Mr. Winchester?"

And then all smiles are gone at Dean's end of the ball court. All laughter has ceased and euphoria has poofed out of existence. Because his freshman history teacher is right behind him, speaking words of pride to his parents and greeting his little brother for the first time.  
Dean's frozen to the spot.

"I assume I'll be having a new Winchester in my class! Hi, my name is Mr. Novak! I'm the freshmans' history teacher!"

"I'm Sam! History is actually my favorite subject! Please tell me Dean didn't do anything to embarrass me my first year of high school. Everyone knows Dean's my brother, and everyone, and their parents, their grandmother, know Dean."

"I can't speak for the other teachers, but I promise not to hold Dean's mistakes against you." The teacher laughs behind Dean.

He turns then, meeting Mr. Novak's unmistakable blue eyes for the first time in a long times. Dean hopes it's the last. He plasters on a smile that doesn't quite reach his cheeks and steps forward, forcing his gate to be suave. 

"Novak," He greets with false excitement. "What a surprise to see you here!"

"I always see my students on their graduation." Mr. Novak says gently, his hands in the pockets of his black ironed dress pants.  
"I'd like to think of it as one last horrah before they become celebrities or firefighters, or anyone. You know I always did encourage their dreams and goals."

"Thanks to you I decided to shoot for being a detective." Dean adds after him, bitterness reined just enough.  
"I want to slove puzzles, catch bad guys that hurt young people."

Hurt flashes across Novak's eyes but Dean doesn't allow it to occur to him. The teacher broke his heart. How else was he supposed to react?

"It's good to see you flourish Dean." Novak says, but it sounds like an apology. It's wimpy too, a pathetic one.

"Parents, little annoying brother," Dean grins tightly and rubs his hands together. "I'm going to talk to my teacher alone, if you'll excuse me."

He leads the way, carefully pushing and weaving past graduates and their families. He doesn't want to have this talk, not now, or tomorrow, or ever, but he's got to. It's what people call, "burying the hatchet."

"You shouldn't be here." Dean spoke.

"And why is that?" Cas questioned gently. Dean wants to slap him. Oh his body is thrumming. Its thrumming with a new found energy, a new found confidence to just whip around and crack his knuckles into his teacher's jaw. His fingers twitched. He'd do it if he knew he wouldn't go to jail for it.

"Let me rephrase." Dean ran his tongue across his teeth. "I don't want you here." 

"News flash Mr. Winchester, but I came to see my students."

"Stay the hell away from Sam." He spit, coughing up mucus and shooting it on Novaks shoes.

Cas sighed, shaking his head. "This isn't how I wanted things to go." Cas rasped weakly, his body seeming to slump over so dramatically Dean thought he'd collapse. He fought every instinct to reach out for the man, his fifteen year old self still wanting to be close to him.  
Cas looks exhausted, sleep deprived, and nearly dead looking. Between his dark hair, darkened eye bags, and startling blue eyes, he looked like a Grim Reaper.

"How did you expect it to go Cas?" Dean whispered, his voice failing him. The sound of the man's name on his tongue felt weird and made him thirsty for water. His tongue tasted like sandpaper.  
"You destroyed whatever dream I had for a happy ending."

"Because you wanted everything that I couldn't have given you!" Cas snapped, his pockets bulging. Dean's own hands were curled into fists, still itching to snap into a certain nose.

"You said you didn't want me. Remember that? That had nothing to do with you being my teacher and me being fucking fifteen. You said you were done risking your career for a horny fresman."

"Dean-"

"No! No, you don't get to decide to make someone so fucking happy and walk out the next day!" Dean shoved Cas hard. "I fucking loved your pathetic ass and you wanted nothing to do with me. I was just a bowling ball you fingered and banged down an alley. Then you just shelved me after you were done playing your stupid fucking game."

"Damn it Dean! Shut the fuck up!" Cas swears. He yells with such a furosity, that it's enough to knock Dean back, eyes wide with his heart lodged in his windpipe.  
"I loved you! That's why I had to make you hate me! I knew if I didn't, you'd just come right back and I'd take you because I knew I wouldn't have the strength to refuse you."

Dean was whisked away in his mind's eye to the first morning he was allowed to stay over at Cas' house. He remembered the way he was cooking eggs and strong arms wrapped around him, lips pressed to his ear, words of love and adoration sending shivers down his spine.

"A sexy chef, cooking eggs," Cas moaned. "I don't think I have the strength to refuse."

Dean's jaw tightened, the memory fresh in his mind. 

"I loved you."

"I'm sorry."

"Fuck you."


End file.
